


Locked Down

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Series: ACITW AU [11]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Inspired by Fanfiction, M/M, Mention of COVID-19, New York City, Quarantine, Romance, Some Fluff, acitw, acitw au, but I did add some levity, mostly in the vein of inappropriate commentary by Sebastian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24167005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: Kurt and Sebastian have been locked away in their penthouse for weeks. When it all started, Sebastian thought they'd be having the time of their lives, but with anxiety looming, it's been a little farther from that than he'd imagined.
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/Sebastian Smythe
Series: ACITW AU [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/194183
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	Locked Down

**Author's Note:**

> A lovely Tumblr anon requested a quarantine fic set in the ACITW AU universe, something along the lines of the Bash fic I wrote a while back - with lots of caring, protective Sebastian.

“Hey, babe! You up yet?” Sebastian asks from underneath his towel as he scrubs his hair dry, a second towel tied tight around his hips. He usually doesn’t shower without Kurt if he can help it, but it’s been an off morning. But they’ve had a lot of off mornings, even before lockdown officially began.

Sebastian is ashamed to admit he didn’t take the whole _lockdown_ thing as seriously in the beginning as he should have. Not with regard to his actions - he did everything they were advised to: arranging to work from home, washing his hands eighty times a day, wearing a mask religiously, even bleaching the soles of his shoes and leaving them to dry out in the hallway. It was in his mindset - the idea that being locked indoors with Kurt for weeks would turn out to be one endless, naked, drunken orgy, the best time of their lives, a time they’d look back on fondly.

It only took a week for Sebastian to realize it would be nothing like that at all.

Kurt is at his best when he sticks to a routine, and since everything is pretty much shut down and canceled for the indeterminate future, he’s become emotionally derailed, reverted back to old habits of counting and sorting Stevia packets when he makes his tea, wearing exclusively sky blue socks because they’re a happy and calming color, looking at his face in the mirror then away three times before he leaves the bathroom.

Sebastian does his best to help. He’s tried several times to wrangle together a schedule of some sort, get them back to a sense of normalcy even though things are far from normal and won’t be for a long time.

But he failed.

Kurt barely sleeps anymore, and when he does, he knocks out so hard, he doesn’t wake till close to dinner time. He didn’t stir when Sebastian climbed off the bed to take a shower, and seeing as Sebastian couldn’t rightly remember when either of them finally fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning, he figured he’d let Kurt get his rest.

That was two hours ago.

“It’s almost …” Sebastian peeks up, stifling a chuckle when he catches sight of a mournful Kurt awake and dressed all in black, standing at one of the bedroom windows, his fingertips lightly caressing the glass as he stares longingly down at the street below “… two,” he finishes as he drops down onto the bed, invitation for Kurt to join him implied. Kurt doesn’t turn to look at him, but Sebastian can see his face via the reflection in the glass. It’s a gloomy day outside, gray in a way that would have inspired them to venture outside if it were months ago, take a walk to the park, sit under a tree with a steaming hot knish and wait for the rain to start.

“Do you think Bloomingdale’s misses me?” Kurt queries with the dramatic air of a Victorian widow (unbeknownst) waiting in vain for her husband to return from the war.

“Definitely. You _and_ your credit card. But good news! Online shopping’s still a thing.”

“It’s not the same,” Kurt mutters. “Most stores aren’t shipping non-essentials for months, and I’m not giving Jeff Bezos one thin dime.”

“And I fully support you on that.” Sebastian knows it’s not shopping Kurt misses as much as hanging out with his favorite spending buddy. They haven’t seen Sebastian’s sister Olivia in the flesh since this whole lockdown fiasco began, and even though they FaceTime nearly every single day, it’s not the same as strolling arm-in-arm down 34th Street, ducking into Macy’s and manhandling everything on the racks while they talk and gossip and laugh out loud to the annoyance of strangers.

“What’s with the black outfit?” Sebastian asks. “Did I miss a dress code memo or …”

“I’m in mourning. Neiman Marcus applied for bankruptcy.”

“My condolences.”

“Thank you.” Kurt sighs. It’s heavy, steeped in something more substantial than the loss of a favorite designer retail chain (which, of course, they both know will probably not stick). “I’ve never seen the streets of Manhattan this empty before. It’s unsettling. Like something out of a horror movie.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian agrees with a sigh himself. “It is.”

“You know, I think I could stand quarantine, the solitude, being locked indoors without a physical connection to humanity …”

“Kurt!” Sebastian balls up his wet towel and tosses it at the window beside Kurt’s head. “I’m right here!”

“Humanity, dear. I said humanity. Anyway, I could bear it better if everything didn’t look so desolate. And _depressing_.”

“You’re from Ohio. You should be used to desolate and depressing.”

“Yes and if we were in Ohio, I’d say this is another day ending in ‘y’. But this is New York. It’s not supposed to be so empty. So quiet.”

Sebastian watches Kurt’s eyes scan the city below - _his_ city. The city he’d worked so hard to get to, going so far as to even date Sebastianfor money _._ But it’s not for the loss of his daily non-fat mocha at Starbucks that he’s staring out the window, not for want of a shopping date with Olivia that his hands are trembling.

Sebastian sits up straight, mildly concerned by what he might hear when he asks the question, “That’s not all, is it?”

“Of course it’s not,” Kurt says, more breath than voice. “I’m …” A dozen words catch in the pause - bored, despondent, terrified “… worried.”

“I don’t think you need to be. You’re healthy, you’re young …” Sebastian tries harder to sound reassuring than he would normally because he just doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if what he’s saying is true. Every morning he wakes up and reads the news, there’s a different dumpster fire blazing somewhere in the world, burning his beliefs and the things he knew logically to be true the day before to ash “… you have no social life to speak of.”

Kurt shrugs. “Well, I’m living with _you_ so …”

“You can’t blame me for not wanting to share you, babe. Besides, a night in bed with you is nine times better than dinner and the theater.”

“Can’t wear my new Gucci suit to bed.”

“Not with that attitude you can’t.”

“I bought it at Neiman Marcus, by the way.”

“And yet you couldn’t save them.” Sebastian tuts. “Pity.”

“I did buy it on sale - fifty percent off, marked down from four thousand. Livvie agreed it was a good deal.”

“You animal! No wonder they’re going out of business!”

Kurt’s lips twitch at the corners. Despite himself, he manages a small smile. He knows Sebastian is teasing to cheer him up. The man deserves something for his efforts.

“I’m worried about my dad mostly,” Kurt says in a voice that bounces off the glass to reach Sebastian on the bed. “It’s kind of hard not to. I mean, he suffers from all the things the news says makes a person vulnerable to this disease. Then there’s Carole, your parents, Olivia and Brian, the kids …”

The sentence fades into condensation on the window. Sebastian waits for more. When it doesn’t come, he asks, “What about Julian?”

“I’m not worried about Julian,” Kurt replies in a tone that says otherwise. “Nothing bad can happen to him. The Dark Lord won’t allow it.”

Sebastian snorts. “Can I tell him you said that?”

“Absolutely. With all the spare time I have, I might even embroider it on a pillow for him …”

Kurt tries to keep it together, act like business as usual, maintain this back and forth banter that sustains their relationship. He tries hard. But his lower lip wobbles; every word he can think of, every punchline he’d prepared sticking in his throat. His voice hitches with the threat of tears. A second later, Sebastian is behind him, hands on his shoulders, shushing him gently.

“It’s okay,” he says, giving Kurt the space to decide if he wants to turn around and be held. Kurt doesn’t - not because he doesn’t want Sebastian to hold him. It’s simply too difficult to convince himself to move.

“Why do things like this happen?” Kurt asks, his brow pulling with disgust at how childish those words sound. And they do. As a child, he’d said them - when his mother died, when he got bullied in school, when Blaine broke up with him, when his father had his heart attack, when he thought he’d never make it to NYADA. Over and over he’s been slapped to the ground, and he still managed to get back up on his feet again.

Because he’s Kurt Hummel.

He’s unstoppable.

But things like this - he can’t control _this!_ He can’t predict a fucking virus! Or the devastation it could cause! How do they escape something like this? It’s not like there’s a whole other planet they can run off to! Sure, they’ve locked themselves away for weeks. They’re fortunate that they can when so many people can’t. But that doesn’t mean they’ve completely kept the virus out of their lives. They still order in from time to time, have their groceries delivered, pass by neighbors on their way to get the mail. And even with Kurt’s obsessive house cleaning, his disinfecting every package that UPS drops at their door, his demands about hand washing, and the masks that become permanently fixed to their faces the moment they even think of opening their front door, they could have been exposed to it without them being any the wiser.

They went to the pharmacy for Sebastian’s allergy medication when the delivery service dropped the ball, waited outside in a long ass line to get into the market down the block when there were no Instacart time slots available and they’d run out of _everything_. They’ve been jogging a few times when the stir crazy got to them so bad they almost did something drastic (Sebastian was a hair’s breadth from shaving his head and Kurt was on the beveled edge of borrowing Sebastian’s only flannel shirt). They both wore masks the whole time. Sebastian almost passed out trying to keep up with Kurt, grumbled something about erotic asphyxiation being more fun at home. Afterwards, they took the masks off correctly, washed their hands the way the doctor who visited _The View_ told them to, and then jumped in a shower and washed each other, just to be sure.

But doesn’t the virus linger in the air for thirty minutes after an infected person exhales? And doesn’t heavy breathing through exercise exacerbate it, send it up higher so it hangs in the air longer? What if they passed through the invisible cloud of someone who had jogged by earlier, someone who was a carrier without knowing it? Kurt had made their masks by hand, added a pocket for a filter, and then bought the filters in bulk. But what if the three layers of cotton he’d used aren’t finely woven enough? He couldn’t see through it when he held it up to the light, but what if? He’d sacrificed one of his best bed sheets on the advice of the CDC but _what if it isn’t enough_!? 

Kurt takes a deep breath in and let’s it out shuddering. Sebastian is right (as far as they know). They’re both young and healthy. They’ve kept their distance from every human being in the vicinity as best they can. They both have excellent health insurance if things start to go south.

After reading a handful of heartbreaking news stories, they’ve both written their final directives.

They’re as prepared as they’re going to be without building a bunker.

From what Kurt has heard, who gets it and how bad it turns out seems like the world’s cruelest game of Russian Roulette, but they stand a decent chance of fighting this thing if they catch it. But things like this - the life threatening things, the things that could potentially strip Kurt to the bone and destroy him - don’t ever go after him, do they?

They always go after the people dearest to him.

This one could actually kill his dad.

“I don’t know,” Sebastian admits, resting his chin on Kurt’s shoulder. “I don’t know why things like this happen. It seems like the universe has it out for us sometimes. And considering the havoc we wreck on the environment and ourselves, I don’t exactly blame it.”

Kurt harrumphs. “It’s good to know you’ve come to peace with Mother Nature pulling an Order 66 on all of us.”

Sebastian grins. That’s a Star Wars reference. Sebastian made them watch all of the movies (in chronological order) three nights ago. Kurt adores the original trilogy but feels the rest of the movies are sacrilege. He claimed forcing him to watch them when he was in no position to leave the premises was against the Geneva Convention and therefore grounds for kicking Sebastian to the curb even if the penthouse was originally his. But he’d suffered through anyway.

“I know you’re down. It’s difficult not to be. And I know this is going to sound hella lame, but I think we should focus on the good things we’ve got going on in our lives. We’ve got such a long road ahead of us. We can’t give up here. We need to live our lives from distraction to distraction, find a way to take our minds off things until they get better. Because they will get better.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, knowing instantly where Sebastian is heading with this. “So sex it is, I guess?” he says halfheartedly.

Sebastian scoffs. “Again, not with that attitude!” He smiles when Kurt does, but too quickly, Kurt returns to near tears. Sebastian softens, backs off the teasing, even the good-natured variety. “Only if that’s what you want. We’ll do whatever you want. We can make brioche, I can kick your ass at Scrabble, we can FaceTime your dad or Liv or one of your asinine friends from high school ...”

“I think, right now, I just need to know that everything’s going to be okay.”

“It will be,” Sebastian answers too quickly.

Kurt sniffs. “Do you honestly believe that?”

“Yes, I do.” Sebastian swallows hard before he adds, “I do believe that. With all my heart.”

Kurt leans his head back on Sebastian’s shoulder and tilts his face up to look at him. “I love you, Sebastian. And because I love you, I’m required to tell you that you’re a horrible liar sometimes.”

Sebastian’s jaw sets. He doesn’t argue. He wishes he felt more optimistic so he could put up a better front for Kurt, but he doesn’t. Not a hundred percent. He can’t say he hasn’t thought the same things Kurt is and about the same people. Every day they wake up, he’s afraid Kurt will receive that dreaded call from Carole saying Burt is in the hospital.

Burt is on a ventilator.

Burt didn’t make it, not even long enough for Kurt to say goodbye, which he’d have to do over the Goddammed phone from their penthouse several states away because hospitals aren’t letting loved ones visit their dying fathers, mothers, husbands, children …

And what about his folks? Greg and Charlotte Smythe are the picture of health. But didn’t a 53-year-old marathon runner recently pass away? They’d had no symptoms, no cough, no fever, no shortness of breath - none of the harbingers they’d been told to look out for. They’d reported feeling a slight uneasiness in the morning, were on a ventilator by noon, and before eight in the evening, when most people are sitting down for dinner, they were gone.

They’d left behind a spouse and three teenage children.

Sebastian doesn’t even remember their name but their story hit him a little too close to home.

Is this how Kurt feels when he hears about the covid deaths on the daily news?

Probably nothing close to it.

Sebastian has always admired Kurt his strength after losing his mother so young, a mother he’d loved more than life. Kurt talks about her from time time, reminisces about the things he can remember - the scent of her perfume, the books she’d read to him, the things they’d bake together after a hard day at school.

Kurt is a stronger person than Sebastian will ever be. Losing his mom and almost losing his dad? Those are two of Sebastian’s biggest fears. If he ever lost his parents before they lived an extremely long and fulfilled life, he’d never recover.

He doesn’t think Kurt ever has, but he hides it well.

“I like the brioche idea,” Kurt decides, taking the pressure off Sebastian’s shoulders to do or say something that will make him feel better, knowing that his fears aren’t likely to be assuaged by anything Sebastian comes up with - honest or no. Nothing is going to be solved in the next ten minutes here in this bedroom no matter how hard he wishes it. “And instead of _me_ kicking _your_ ass at Scrabble, let’s jump online and drag Julian and Cooper into a game of Words with Friends.”

“You know Julian will demand we play _strip_ Words with Friends.”

“Yeah, well, we can rib him about how that’s the only four-way he’s getting from us. Besides, we’ll win.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sebastian says, kissing Kurt on the forehead. Kurt’s gaze meets his, fear and exhaustion brimming in intelligent blue eyes. Sebastian sees him thinking, sees his forehead wrinkle, then smooth, sees the apples of his cheek rise as he comes to another decision.

“But first …” Kurt turns around slowly, sporting a wicked grin, biting his lower lip in that irresistible way that’s both blushing virgin and smoldering tempter. He tugs the towel tied around Sebastian’s waist free, lifts it to eye level, then drops it on the floor. He slides his gaze down Sebastian’s body, grinning appreciatively when he reaches the start of an impressive erection.

Sebastian grins over Kurt’s staring. “Does that mean you want to …?”

“Fuck? Yes, please.”

“Great! I’ll climb into bed while you get dressed.”

Kurt’s eyes snap to Sebastian’s face, wide with confusion. “What? Why? What am I changing into?”

Sebastian winks. “We’re gonna get some mileage out of that Gucci suit.”

“Sebastian!” Kurt gasps. “You can’t be serious!”

“Serious as those murder hornets up in Washington.”

“Sebastian!”

“Kurt! Neiman Marcus is circling the drain because you decided to buy an overpriced suit on sale! Don’t let their sacrifice be in vain!”


End file.
